


oh captain, my captain

by poindextears



Series: Cromwell Cinematic Universe [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Captain Dex, Cromwell The Stuffed Lobster, Derek Nurse Loves His Boyfriend, Established Relationship, Frog Pile, It's literally just the first day of preseason for the frogs' senior year, M/M, Post-Canon, SMH '21 Crickets, SMH Antics, Samwell Men's Hockey, Soft dex soft dex soft dex, Some schmoopy making out, Taddy Tour, The Frogs' Senior Year, chowder is the BEST, preseason, sometimes they play hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poindextears/pseuds/poindextears
Summary: One more year.Pa’s words linger in his ears when he pulls out of the driveway, watches his parents waving in the rearview. One more year is right. He’s a senior. He can’t believe it.He blows past the Leaving Bar Harbor sign on the bridge right at sunrise. Sure, he’s leaving home, but Samwell is home, too— or a second home, at least, a safe place full of people he loves. And this year, he has so much to look forward to.(Or: Captain Dex returns to Samwell for his senior year.)
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Series: Cromwell Cinematic Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622695
Comments: 13
Kudos: 223





	oh captain, my captain

**Author's Note:**

> Wow!! I love this fic! I've been so excited to share it with you guys. What you're about to read is literally just the first two days of preseason for the frogs' senior year, featuring a seriously heavy dose of Captain Dex.  
> I tagged this to the CCU series because it most closely fits that, but it could also be considered a cricket fic, since it includes their taddy tour. (The crickets are the freshmen when the frogs are seniors, and [this is their series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705795).) The reason I didn't put this in the cricket series is because there's no cricket POV in it.  
> But this is the most ambitious crossover event of the century. Featuring: appearances by both Dex's and Nursey's parents, every canon character who would be on SMH their senior year, the crickets, vague mention of Uncle Tommy Poindexter, and, of course, Cromwell the stuffed lobster.  
> I love you all; have fun!

It takes just under five and a half hours to get from the front door of Will’s childhood home in Bar Harbor to the steps of the Samwell Hockey Haus.

It’s a sticky August morning when he hugs his parents goodbye. Ma cried on his first moving day, but she was actually down there with him, and so was Pa, to move him into his freshman dorm. Today is the first time he’ll make the drive back to school without a family member accompanying him. Drew came last year, to help him get his stuff into the Haus, but Drew has work and a wife and other Life Things now, and moving his little brother into college for his senior year isn’t the first thing on his mind.

Will doesn’t mind. After all, all his stuff save a suitcase of clothes and a few essentials in his backpack is already in the bungalow at the Haus, stored away safely under lock and key all summer. So when he rises bright and early and puts his stuff in his truck, he’s departing alone today.

“You drive safe, okay?” Ma says, with her head on his shoulder, as the sun peeks over the horizon beyond the treeline at home. “And text us when you get there.”

“Of course, Ma.” Will gives her a tight squeeze. “Love you.”

She smiles when they pull away from the hug, and Will’s stomach turns. It’s always a little hard to leave his parents. “I love you, too, darling.”

Pa gives him a hug, too; it’s firm, and a little quicker than Ma’s, but sincere all the same. It’s in Pa’s nature to be less emotional, but his smile in the morning light is almost proud. “Have fun, Junior,” he says. “One more year.”

_ One more year. _

Pa’s words linger in his ears when he pulls out of the driveway, watches his parents waving in the rearview. One more year is right. He’s a senior. He can’t believe it.

He blows past the  _ Leaving Bar Harbor  _ sign on the bridge right at sunrise. Sure, he’s leaving home, but Samwell is home, too— or a second home, at least, a safe place full of people he loves. And this year, he has  _ so much _ to look forward to.

There are also pressures— a  _ lot _ of pressures, this year especially— first, captaincy, and figuring out his own way to lead the team, because Bitty is a hard act to follow, even though he does have plenty of his own ideas after having all summer to think about it. And then there’s actual  _ school _ , too, which, this year, will be more important than ever, because being a senior means you’re thinking about what the hell you’re doing next, and Will will be damned if  _ that’s _ not the most terrifying thought in the world. There’ll be senior projects and internships and job applications, trying to find his place in the Real World for after graduation, all the while trying not to let his last year at Samwell slip through his fingers in the frenzy.

_ God _ . It’s a lot to think about it. And he has an entire five and a half-hour drive to do so.

He puts on some music.

That helps. Derek made him a good driving playlist, in July, sitting curled up in blankets with him in his New York bedroom the night before he had to go home. The visit was too short, and he hasn’t seen him since then, but it was full of firsts and butterflies and a softness he never thought he and Derek could have together.  _ Listen to this on your ride home _ , Derek had said to him, passing his phone back after twenty solid minutes of sorting through Apple Music.  _ It’ll make you think of us _ .

And that it did.

Still does, as he plays it on the ride down. It’s hours of music, because Derek is great at playlists. There’s some of Will’s favorite stuff, plus new suggestions from Derek’s taste that are surprisingly good, and sappier songs Will would have rolled his eyes at before he let himself fall in love with him.

That’s another thing awaiting him for senior year at Samwell. Derek.  _ Being _ with Derek, like never before.

It’s been a long summer.

His plan for months has been to be the first one back at the Haus for preseason, and with his early start leaving home, he rolls in around ten in the morning, which is pretty much right on schedule. Driving onto campus feels like a breath of fresh air; there are other preseason athletes milling around, but it’s otherwise still pretty summer-deserted. Soon enough, the place will be packed with students, and another year of college will kick into full swing.

Will puts his truck in one of the two parking spots by the Haus, then pulls the keys out of his pocket as he gets out and looks up at the building. From the tree outside to its line of second-floor windows to its slightly dilapidated porch (he catalogues that for freshman hazing repair jobs), it’s  _ home _ . He kind of smiles a little, looking up at it. It’s like seeing an old friend.

Carrying his two bags, he locks his truck and walks up the front steps. When Bitty gave him these keys on the class of 2017’s graduation day in May, it felt like the weight of his biggest responsibility yet was falling on his shoulders. And even though it still sort of feels that way, today it also feels like he could take on the world.

The key slides neatly into the lock, and with a gentle creak, the front door gives and welcomes him in.

It’s  _ sweltering _ inside, but otherwise just as he left it, the last one out along with Derek on that May morning that feels like so long ago. He makes a beeline for the kitchen window and pulls it open; the breeze flutters the curtains, and immediately he knows the whole place will benefit from some circulation. There’s so much natural light that he doesn’t really need to turn the lights on right away, but he  _ does _ turn on the basement light, dropping his bags next to the door to get downstairs; he’ll head there in a minute.

The quiet in here, he knows, won’t last long. Everyone is arriving at some point today, but that point will vary based on the person. Chowder’s flight lands at three, and Derek left New York an hour ago, which puts him arriving around lunchtime. Whiskey and Ford are both flying, and Tango’s taking the train up from New Jersey.

It’s a new Haus crew, but it’s a  _ very _ good one.

Will has missed his team.

He heads down to the basement and greets his bungalow; it’s home sweet home in a basement, and not to brag, but he really does love what he did with it. He puts the suitcase of clothes by the closet, then tosses his backpack on the desk chair, unzipping it to take Cromwell out of the top.

“Sorry,” Will mumbles, ruffling his antennae as something of a greeting. “I know that must’ve been a tight ride. We’re home now.”

He puts him on the bookshelf, then leaves his room and goes to open all the windows upstairs.

He has a basic checklist for Haus chores while he waits for the others— and it starts with grocery shopping, so he walks to murder Stop ‘N’ Shop (it’s not as murdery in the broad summer daylight) and comes back with two paper bags of basic supplies, plus the ingredients to make Aunt Alice’s snickerdoodle cookies. He’s pretty sure Derek is going to chirp him if he’s baking when he shows up, so he decides he’ll save that activity for the evening, as a team bonding sort of thing.

Preseason  _ actually  _ starts tomorrow, because that’s when the freshmen will show up for their taddy tour, and then they’ll have an afternoon workout followed by a sheet of ice. Tonight is all their own.

He really,  _ really _ can’t wait to get Derek alone.

The Haus is at much less of a hellish temperature as he’s putting the groceries away. He’s trying to figure out if he wants to refrigerate Gatorade or leave it out when there’s a bustling at the front door, followed by a laughing sort of shout. “ _ Captain Dex _ !!!”

Will looks over his shoulder; it’s Tango and his mom. He grins and waves at the both of them. They’re spitting images of each other, except Tango is way taller than her. He’s carrying a box, and she has a duffel bag over her shoulder. “Welcome back, Tango. Hi, Mrs. Tangredi.”

“Good to see you, Will,” says his mom.

“ _ Dude _ ,” Tango cries, eyes widening, “did you already go grocery shopping?”

Will shrugs. “I’ve been here for two hours.”

Tango beams. “Best captain ever,” he says, and Will’s senior year begins.

*

Whiskey is the next to arrive— he had a  _ super  _ early flight, apparently, and he’s alone but neglects offers to help him with his stuff, sort of making a beeline right up to Bitty’s room after greetings. About ten minutes after that, Will discovers that there’s a wobbly post on the stairs, and at first he isn’t going to do anything about it, but then he watches it wobble when Whiskey and Tango are going up and down, and he can’t just leave it be when he has nothing else to do. So he grabs his tool belt from the basement, dons Derek’s green cap backwards, perches himself on the fifth step, and gets to work.

It’s nice, having a job.

“Ford’s getting here at five!” Tango announces, on his way down into the kitchen, looking at his phone. “She had a layover.”

“ _ Oof _ .” Will tinkers with the beam, but it’s still loose. “I feel so bad for the people flying.”

“Same here,” Tango replies, then grins like crazy. “Couldn’t be us!”

Will laughs, ducking his head toward the railing. “Ayuh.”

Five minutes go by and the beam is really starting to piss him off a little. He’s staring at it in annoyance, like maybe that alone will fix it, and wondering if he should just save this for freshman haze night, when he hears someone come through the front door. Since Tango and Whiskey are both inside, doing stuff in their rooms, this must be someone new. And his stomach flutters a little, because he has a pretty good idea who it is.

“Hell _ ooooooooooo _ Haus Sweet Haus,” calls a beautiful, smooth voice in the kitchen, and Will just about melts.

He’s here.

He’s not going to be ridiculously sappy. Not only would it damage his entire self-image, but it would also get him fined faster than you can say  _ sin bin _ . So he stays casual, perched on the stairs, and waits for Derek to round the corner on the way up to his room. “Anyone home?” he hears him call, in the kitchen, and then, “Will?”

Will grins a little, because his voice is traveling, and any second he’ll be—

Here. Derek rounds the corner, and his heart leaps out of his chest like he is in a fucking rom-com.

He’s carrying a box, which— Will really has no idea what could be in there, since all his stuff is here, but whatever— and he’s in gym shorts and a bright teal tank-top, with his Birkenstocks; it’s a standard summer look for him, as Will has learned. He sports a fresh undercut and his tasteful five o’clock shadow, and there’s new ink on his arm under the cuff, an addition to the growing sleeve. When he meets Will’s eyes, he lets off a whistle, and his smile is everything Will has ever needed.

“ _ Wooo _ ,” Derek remarks, looking him up and down. “I love a man at work.”

Will lets out a breath and smiles like crazy. He knows he’s blushing, and doesn’t care. “Der.”

What happens next is fast. Derek puts down his box, and in his effort to step past it, ends up almost tripping over it, in true, endearing Derek fashion. Will comes down the steps to meet him at the bottom, and proceeds to get the most satisfying and tender hug he has ever had in his life. And that  _ counts _ the hug he got when they reunited in New York in July. This is better. This is so much better. Derek’s arms latch at his waist, and his face tucks into his shoulder, and Will breathes in the smell of him that washes anew to retrieve the summer’s memories, and Derek whispers, “Hey, babe.”

Because he’s  _ babe _ now.

“Hi,” he says, because it’s all he can get out, and he gives the hug one last squeeze before pulling away. Fines be damned. He knows what they both want now.

He allows himself a moment of eye contact, still wrapped up in the embrace, while he places his hand gently at the back of Derek’s neck. FaceTime just doesn’t do those green eyes justice.

Then he kisses him, long and soft, and oh,  _ God _ has he missed that part, so much— New York was his only opportunity to do it thus far, and even though that was five entire days of learning how to kiss Derek, there is really not enough time in the world for how much he wants to keep doing it. Will revels in the euphoria of it, the sweet relief, at long last.

They have an entire college year ahead of them to do this.

Will smiles out of the kiss, and the only reason he doesn’t kiss him again is because he catches sight of Derek’s parents over his shoulder. Eva and Theo Nurse were previously two of the most terrifying people in the world to Will, but after they welcomed him into their home this summer, that fear evaporated. They may be filthy rich and ridiculously successful, but they’re good people, kind people.

He lets go of Derek and goes to greet them. It’s not that he’s embarrassed— they kissed a handful of times in front of his parents this summer, and it was all fine, but as much as he missed Derek, he’s not going to just stand here and ignore his parents so he can canoodle with him.

“Will!” Eva smiles warmly and wraps him in a hug. Her hair is in an elaborate coil on the top of her head; the last time he saw her, she had braids. She’s glamorous enough for a runway, though she makes her living in court. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You, too, Eva,” he replies, smiling into her shoulder. Her clothes are designer, because she’s a Nurse, and it seems to be prescribed family protocol. “How are you? How was the trip up?”

“Oh, it was great,” she replies, as she lets go of him, looking to her husband. “I think we made it in record time.”

Will steps forward to shake Theo’s outstretched hand. Derek’s skin, facial structure, and general conventional beauty may be from his mom, but his height and his eyes are all his dad’s. Theo has a bunch of curly, blond hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. He looks like every rich academic ever. “Will,” Theo says, with a nod and a smile. “Happy senior year.”

Derek buries his face in his hands like the words  _ senior year _ physically pain him. “Aaa _ aaaaahh _ ,” he groans. “Dad. If you start giving me graduation feelings in  _ literal August _ , I’m not talking to you until Christmas.”

Theo pinches his brow. “All I said was happy senior year!”

“If I pretend like we’re not seniors,” Derek replies, “then I don’t have to think about it.” Theo chuckles at him.

“Aw, don’t be sad, either of you,” Eva chimes in. “You have a great year ahead of you.”

Will tucks his hands into his pockets and smiles. “Yeah,” he says, looking to Derek, who no longer looks in pain. “We do.”

Theo kneels and picks up the box Derek was holding. “I can get this,” he says, nodding to Derek, and Derek grins.

“Thanks, Dad.”

They head up the stairs toward Derek’s room. “What’s broken on the railing?” Derek asks, lacing his fingers in his, as they fall into step a few paces in front of his parents.

“Oh.” Will eyes the menace of a post as they pass it, then sighs. “It’s just loose. I think I might save it for the freshmen.”

“Babe,” Derek laughs, “I just want you to know that using manual labor as hazing is the most  _ you _ thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.” At the top of the stairs, they round the corner and walk to Derek’s door. It’s half-open, and Will has already been inside to crack the window.

In the doorway, Derek kisses his cheek. “It’s both, obviously,” he says, then steps into his room and takes a big, theatrical breath, spreading his arms and spinning around once. “My humble abode!”

Will makes way for Theo, with the box, and looks between him and Eva. “Do you need help bringing anything else up?”

“Oh, thank you, Will,” Eva replies, “but aside from a bag of clothes out in the car, this is all of it, believe it or not.”

“Oh.” Will furrows his brow, but nods. “Well, uh. Okay.”

She rests a hand on his shoulder, while Derek and Theo have a small conference over the contents of the box. “How was the rest of your summer?” she asks. “You got a little color in your face.”

Will wonders if he’s blushing. He  _ did _ , after all, just reunite with the boy he’s been thinking about all summer. But he knows Eva is probably just talking about his sunburn. “It was good,” he replies, leaning against the doorframe. “I worked for my uncle a whole lot.”

“Right!” She nods. “Your uncle Tommy, right?”

He’s surprised— and a little touched— that she remembers this. “Ayuh— yeah!” He pauses, then gestures to his face. “Long days in the sun on the boat, which explains… that.”

“Ooh, I hope you were using sunblock!” It’s such a mom thing to say.

He nods dutifully. “Of course.”

Theo straightens up— the conference is over, apparently— and walks back to the door as Derek deposits his laptop and charger from the box onto his desk. He consults his wife. “Shall we grab the clothes?”

Eva smiles. “Sure,” she replies, then waves to Will and Derek. “We’ll be right back, you two.”

When they’re gone, Derek chuckles at the doorway, turning around and leaning against his desk chair. “They think they’re slick,” he mumbles, then makes eye contact with Will, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Will echoes, like he’s not about to burst internally from the pure exhilaration of being in the same  _ room _ as him, and then, like Derek can read his mind, he makes his way across the room’s small floor space and catches him with a kiss, both hands on his face. Will melts. There is nothing, for that small moment, but him and Derek and this feeling he’s missed so, so much.

“I missed you,” Derek says, pressing his forehead to his, when they pull away. “ _ So _ much.”

Will rests his hands on his waist and pulls him a little closer. “ _ God _ ,” he mutters, “me, too.”

Derek’s kiss is sweet, and he tastes like summer, feels like home. He brushes his thumb against Will’s cheek after they kiss a few times, no doubt tracing a trail of the untapped endless supply of brand-new summer freckles. “You look hot,” he remarks, kind of nonchalantly. “Did you do something different? New hat, maybe?”

“Shut up,” Will laughs. “You suck.”

“Mm.” Derek wraps him in a random hug, and Will holds him close; Derek’s stubble prickles against his cheek. For a few seconds, they just stand there, and all at once Will is reminded of their reunion in this room a year ago— it feels like so much longer than just a year— when they were moving into it together. Last year with Derek was quite the adventure, starting vaguely tense and going tender, and Will wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Well. Okay. Actually. If he and Derek had gotten their shit together sooner, they could have had even more time in college together than just their senior year. But they had to figure themselves out first, had to learn how to handle their dynamic, how to be friends before they could be anything more. And besides, there’s no rush. They have as much time ahead of them as they want.

That’s a really nice thought.

“I don’t have that much stuff,” Derek says, as they pull away from the hug. Will keeps him held by the waist, and Derek’s hands return to his face, cupping his cheeks. “Are you unpacked?”

Will nods. “Have been for hours.”

Derek smooths his hair where it’s sticking out from under the green hat. He wonders if Derek will want it back. “What time did you get here?”

“Like ten.”

Derek laughs, then sings to the ceiling. “Oh captain, my captain.”

Will grins at him. “Keep that up in here and you’ll get fined.”

“Fined?” Derek feigns offense. “You’re the captain! Change the bylaws!”

Will tugs him close by the waist, kissing the side of his mouth. “Bold of you to assume I’m not going to use the bylaws to keep you from pulling cheesy shit.”

“I want to break up.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Do it, coward.”

Derek pulls him into a laughing kiss, and Will thought he knew the joy of reunion when he saw him in New York this summer, but this… this blows it right out of the water.

When Eva and Theo get back, Will sets to work helping them unload Derek’s stuff. After all, he doesn’t, for the moment, have anything better to do. “It’s true there’s not too much to unpack,” Eva tells him, as she folds a cream-colored cashmere sweater and tucks it into the dresser. “But we thought we’d come up and spend the weekend. We’re staying in Boston, and having dinner with some friends from law school.” She smiles, patting the neat stack of sweaters she’s just created, and adds, “And we thought, if you two wanted to, we’d take you out to dinner on Saturday night before we fly home. Do you have anything on Saturday?”

Will racks his brain for the preseason schedule, which he’s unintentionally committed to memory. “An inter-squad scrimmage at four, but nothing in the night.”

“We’d love to take the both of you, then,” Theo says; he’s nearby trying to arrange Derek’s semester textbooks neatly on his far-from-tidy bookshelf. “If that’s okay with you, Will?”

“Oh— of course; I’d love that.” Will feels warmth in his ears, which means they’re probably red, but Derek is smiling at him from across the room, and his parents are too good to him, and he’s humbled. “That’s so nice of you. Thank you.”

Leave it to the Nurses to just spend a random weekend in Boston on a whim. Will wants to be that financially comfortable one day.

Tango comes by to greet Derek— Mrs. Tangredi is still milling around helping him with the attic, so she and Eva end up getting into a lengthy Hockey Mom conversation while Theo organizes the books like the socially awkward dad he is. Whiskey, too, offers a brief greeting from across the hall.

The chatter fills the previously empty space, and Will smiles, wrapping Derek in an arm.

The Haus is finally coming back to life.

*

The Nurses leave a little while after, headed to check into their hotel in Boston. Will stations himself in the kitchen, where Mrs. Tangredi has deposited a bag of subs she got for them to have for lunch. While they eat, Will hunches over Derek’s planner with him, filling preseason stuff into the margins. “We’ll do haze night on the ninth,” he says, pointing to the date on the calendar. “And, uh… first exhibition is the sixteenth. September. Obviously.”

Derek bumps his inky shoulder against Will. Will registers, abruptly, that he really wants to trace his tattoo later. “Are you going to the captains meeting on the 23rd?”

“That’s in a week and a half.”

“And?”

“And I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You were just giving me September dates to put in my calendar.”

“Yeah,  _ team _ stuff.” Will pauses, then sighs. “Of course I’m going to the meeting.”

Derek kisses his temple. “Good,” he hums, then writes down  _ WILL  _ and  _ Varsity Captains Meeting AKA gays assemble _ on August 23rd.

“Wait.” Will pauses, then turns to look at the digital clock on Betsy 2.0. It’s 1:15, and he just had a thought. “Hey, Der?”

Derek hums to acknowledge him while he doodles a heart in his planner.

“Do you know if C needs a ride from the airport?”

“Oh.” Derek pauses, then picks up his phone. “Hold up. I’ll check. I think he has in-flight wifi.”

*

They pull up on the curb at the terminal at Logan, and it takes them all of three seconds to spot a blur in teal coming out of the building. “I’ve got my eyes on a shark boy,” Derek says, as Will puts the truck in park.

Will grins. “I see him too.” Chowder is surveying the curb as he walks up to it; he’s a few spaces away from where they managed to pull over. “He doesn’t see us.”

“C’mon.” Derek squeezes his hand. “Let’s go have a frog reunion.”

Once they’re both out and on the sidewalk, Derek waves his arms over his head. “ _ Big C _ !” he yells, which must be enough, because Chowder turns to the sound of his voice, then breaks out in the biggest and most wholesome smile known to man.

Will waves, too, as Chowder makes a break to them, dodging the other people on the sidewalk. True to brand, he’s in a Sharks t-shirt, and all he’s carrying is a backpack off one shoulder.

When he reaches them, he barrels them in a giant group hug. “What’s up, dads?” he cries, with his voice muffled in Derek’s shoulder. Derek laughs, and Will ruffles his hair.

“ _ Chowder _ ,” Will cries. “Dude, how was the flight?”

“It was great!” Chowder is still squeezing the both of them, like his goal is to crush their ribs, and it’s the best. Will has missed this, their frog dynamic. Derek and Chowder are his best friends in the world. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you, too, bro,” Derek replies, when they finally split from their group hug.

Chowder literally jumps up and down. “ _ Guys _ ,” he says. “We’re seniors!”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Derek groans. “My dad was laying on the senior year shit earlier.”

“He literally said one thing,” Will says.

“Yeah, but  _ still _ .” Derek grabs Chowder and hugs him again, wrestling his head into his shoulder. “I can’t handle those  _ emotions _ , bro.” He buries his face in Chowder’s hair. “I’m never leaving Samwell. I’ll just stay.”

“Good idea,” Chowder says, looking up from Derek’s clutches. “We can all stay. Super seniors!”

Will snorts. “I feel like the NCAA wouldn’t be super on board with that.”

Chowder shrugs. “We’re in denial.”

“Of senior year?”

“Ch’yeah,” Derek chimes in. “If we don’t think about it, it’s not happening.”

“ _ Guys _ ,” Will chuckles. “It’s August.”

“Dex is right! C’mon,” Chowder says, tossing his backpack into the truck bed. “Let’s get going, and you guys can tell me all about your summer of love.”

Will rubs his forehead. “We Skyped you, like, every other day.”

“ _ Still _ !” Chowder cries. “Deets, dude.” Then, to Derek, he yells, “Also I call shotgun!”

Derek pretends he’s been shot in the stomach. “ _ Bruh _ ,” he says. “You sniped me.”

“I just sat on the same plane for six hours,” Chowder says, slinging the passenger side door open. “I deserve it.”

Derek clambers into the backseat. “Yeah, but was it JetBlue, though?”

“You know it,” Chowder replies, as Will hops up on the driver’s side.

“The only way to fly.”

“Facts.” Chowder turns in the passenger’s seat and high-fives Derek. “It’s luxury.”

“God,” Will mumbles, pulling off the curb and back into the chaos that is Logan traffic. “I cannot stand airplanes. I don’t know how you do it, Chowder.”

Chowder shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “They’re kinda fun!”

Will shudders. The last time he was on a plane was to get to Frozen Four in April, and he was a wreck the entire time. Derek and Chowder sat on either side of him, both trying to be a distraction, to keep Will from blowing a fuse. (On the flight home, Will was too amped about the victory to be all that nervous.)

“When does Cait get here?” Derek asks, leaning forward in his spot to rest one elbow on each of the front chairs.

“Absolutely not.” Will taps the arm that’s closest to him. “Put your seatbelt on.”

Derek grumbles a protest, but Will hears the  _ click  _ a second later. “You’re no fun, babe.”

“ _ Babe _ ?” Chowder’s mouth falls open in glee. “Oh my  _ God _ , you guys.”

Will shrugs, well aware that he might be blushing for not the first time today. “It was an eventful summer.”

Chowder makes a noise that’s something between a shout and a cheer, punching the roof of the car. “I knew you’d finally get your shit together eventually.” He points between the two of them. “Maybe not right away! But I knew you had it in you.”

“Thanks, C,” Derek laughs. Will grins at the both of them.

“And Cait’s flight comes in later tonight,” Chowder adds. “She got the late one. I kinda feel bad for her.”

“When’s the last you saw her?” Will asks, slowing at a yield to get out of the terminal area.

“End of July.” Chowder smiles, softly, and adds, “I missed her like crazy.”

“We should all hang out,” Derek says. “Like, practice schedules permitting. Maybe brunch on Sunday.”

“ _ Yum _ ,” Chowder whispers, sort of reverently. “Brunch.”

“A double date,” Derek adds.

Will rolls his eyes and makes sure Derek can see it in the rearview. “I’ll fine you.”

“ _ Pff _ .” Derek nudges Chowder’s shoulder. “C, this just in. He’s literally in a relationship with me but he’s threatened to fine me at least three times already for acting like his boyfriend.”

Chowder laughs. “I thought Bitty voided relationship fines for captains!”

“Yeah, well,” Will says, still eyeing Derek in the rearview, “I’m bringing them back.”

Derek sticks his tongue out at him.

“Frog movie night,” Chowder blurts, pointing to both of them. “Tonight.”

Will nods his agreement. “In the bungalow.”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Derek casts them a contemplative stare, stroking his chin. “What’s the film?”

Chowder claps Will on the shoulder. “Captain’s choice.”

“Oh.” Will smiles a little. “Thanks, C. Okay.”

“We are  _ not _ watching  _ Die Hard _ , though,” Derek chimes in. “Like, I’m sorry, babe. I love you. But.”

“Wait, how could we even watch that?” Chowder says. “ _ Die Hard _ is a Christmas movie!”

“ _ Die Hard _ is  _ so _ not a Christmas movie,” Will replies.

“ _ Dude _ !” Chowder stares at him in disbelief. “It so is!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is! It takes place  _ during _ a Christmas party!”

“Yeah, but there are Christmas parties in plenty of movies that aren’t Christmas movies.”

“Nursey, what’s your vote?”

“Look, I don’t know, dude. All white guy action films are the same to me.”

“Yeah, but if you had to say either way.”

“It’s… like, def  _ not _ a Christmas movie.”

“ _ Ha _ . Suck it, Chowder.”

“ _ Nursey _ ! I thought you’d be on my side! Love has tainted your conscience.” 

Will gets onto the main road, with the windows rolled down and the steady sound of chatter in his truck, and he can’t help but smile.

The frogs are back together.

*

The rest of the afternoon goes quickly, with Ford arriving around her promised time of five to complete the assembly of the Haus crew for the year. The waffles make their way over from their dorms, where they’ve settled in today; athletes are always the first people in the halls after RAs. Will orders several pizzas, because he does not quite feel up to making dinner, and no one feels like assembling at Commons.

So instead, they gather around boxes spread all over the kitchen counter. For eight jocks and one manager whose appetite supersedes her height, it’s just the right amount of greasy food. Will sits between Derek and Chowder, his ankle hooked around Derek’s under the table. Hops and Tango are in a fierce debate about the most superior 90s cartoons. Whiskey is texting, and Louis is shuffling his Spotify library on his little portable speaker; Bully is rating the songs as he skips through them.

“Okay!” Ford closes the top of her laptop, because apparently she’s already ascending into her managerial form, despite the fact that preseason doesn’t even officially start until tomorrow. “I just sent the final email to the freshmen.”

“Thank you, Ford,” Will says. “What time did you tell them to get here?”

“Ten on the dot.” She sets her laptop aside, then grabs a paper plate and a slice of veggie lovers. “And if they’re late, they’re getting fined.”

Whiskey chuckles. “Hell yeah.”

“Wait, you guys!” Tango chimes in, with something like urgency in his expression. “We didn’t name them yet!”

Will glances to him, and Chowder asks, “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, like…” Tango points to himself. “We’re the taddies, and you’re the frogs, and they’re the waffles…”

“ _ Ohhhh _ ,” says Derek, with a nod. Will feels bad for a second that he hasn’t thought of this yet, like he’s neglected a leadership duty. “Chill, you’re right, Tango.”

“There’s no group name,” Ford murmurs, scrunching up her brows like she’s thinking. “Hm.”

“Well, they’re technically frogs,” Hops volunteers, “aren’t they?”

“Yeah, technically,” Will says.

“But since we’re  _ the _ frogs…” Chowder adds.

“They should have another name,” Tango finishes.

Will chews on the crust of his own extra cheese slice while he thinks. “Okay, boys,” Louis says. “Time to put our heads together.”

“Hmm.” Ford pauses, then perks up. “They could be the sharks!”

Everyone looks to Chowder at this suggestion, who hesitates for a second before shrugging. “As much as I love sharks,” he says, “I feel like I don’t love it as a name for the new frogs.”

Ford nods. “Fair enough.”

Tango massages his temples like he’s deep in thought. “Uhhhhh.”

“The pies?” Hops offers.

“No baking names,” Whiskey cuts in. “Please. My one request.”

“Fair enough,” Will replies. “But I  _ am _ making cookies after pizza, by the way, guys. I got the stuff at Stop ‘N’ Shop.”

Chowder and Tango bump fists at the mention of cookies. Hops makes a vaguely sexual noise. “Murder Stop ‘N’ Shop or racist Stop ‘N’ Shop?” Bully asks.

“Murder,” Will replies.

“Wow.” Bully nods. “And you emerged unscathed.”

Derek slaps the counter, falling forward in his seat. It makes a noise like a firecracker. “I’ve got it.”

“ _ Jesus _ , Der,” Will says. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Ford laughs a little, adding, “Did that hurt your hand?”

“Don’t worry; it’s chill.” This is definitely Derek code for  _ it totally did hurt my hand but I’m not going to say anything _ , so Will drags it under the table to give it a quick squeeze before letting it go again. “I know what we’re calling the freshmen.”

“Bet.”

“Hit us with it.”

“It better be good.”

Derek pauses, maybe for dramatic effect, and then looks to Will. His eyes are the murky ocean, and Will cannot help but smile. When Derek’s theatrical beat is over, he asks him, “What are baby lobsters called?”

The rest of the team is silent, and Will feels every eye on him. Derek’s grin is every bit as contagious as it is charming.

Is Will really about to name their incoming freshmen after lobsters?

“Crickets,” he says to Derek, leaning his head in one hand. “They’re called crickets.”

Chowder doubles over laughing. “Oh my gosh!”

“I kind of love that, actually,” Ford remarks.

“ _ Same _ !” Tango says. “They  _ should _ be crickets.”

“Think about it.” Bully is nodding. “Crickets chirp.”

“ _ Yooooo _ , facts only,” Derek says, and gradually, the rest of the team voice their agreement.

“So that settles it, then,” Ford says, all official and managerial. “The new frogs are the crickets.”

“That’s amazing,” Hops says.

“Wait,” Chowder says, with half of his mushroom slice remaining in his hand, “don’t they also need, like, nicknames?”

“Don’t those come tomorrow?” Whiskey asks.

“Depends on the person.” Derek pauses. “I was Nursey when I got here. Carried over from high school.”

“Yeah, Chowder dubbed me Dex on the taddy tour,” Will adds. “But Shitty didn’t start calling you Chowder until second day of preseason, right?”

Chowder nods. “Right.”

“Well, we can try.” Will pauses and looks to Ford. “Do you remember their names?”

“Uhh…” She grabs her laptop and opens it again, squinting at the screen for a second before pushing her glasses up and announcing, “So there’s, hmm, a Hernandez… and a Shaley, and then— Tremblay?” She shrugs. “I have no idea how you pronounce that. I think he’s French.”

Louis pumps his fists. “Europe gang?”

Ford shakes her head. “Canada gang.”

Louis deflates. “Fuck.”

Derek reaches to grab Will’s hand under the table, still looking at Ford. “What are their first names?”

“Um…” Ford looks at her laptop again. “Sebastián? Sebastian with an accent over the A.”

Whiskey looks up from his phone like someone has just awoken an evil spirit. “Sebastián Hernandez?” Ford nods. Whiskey looks like he wants to die. “You are shitting me.”

Will arches an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

“If he’s from Phoenix, I do.”

Ford studies her screen for a second, then announces, “I don’t know how to find out where he’s from.”

“Christ.” Whiskey runs his hands through his hair. “I know him from the rink at home. That kid is… he’s something.”

“Is he a dick?” Derek asks.

“No, no. Kind of the opposite, actually.” Whiskey pauses, then sighs. “He’s, like. Happy all the time.”

“Well, that’s good!” Chowder says. “Positivity is always good on a team.”

Whiskey looks back at his phone. “I guess.”

“Then there’s a Ben and a Remy,” Ford adds, still scrolling on her laptop. “Geez, I guess he really is French.”

“Remy,” Hops laughs. “Like the rat from Ratatouille.”

“Yeah, I can’t lie, boys,” Louis remarks. “I’m not feeling particularly inspired on the nickname front.”

Will shrugs. “We could wait ‘till we meet them.”

“True,” Hops says. “Sometimes it’s personality-based.”

“Nando,” Derek announces, like it’s a revelation. “For Hernandez.”

“Oh, seconded,” Ford says. “I like that one.”

Chowder nods. “Same here.”

Will laughs a little. “I love that we’re just naming them against their wills.”

“It’s a Samwell Hockey rite of passage,” Derek muses, which… he’s right.

Will loves this stupid team.

*

The waffles stay late, participating in cookie time, and once the snickerdoodles are out of the oven, they’re around for awhile longer to taste test and shoot the shit. It’s around eight when they go back to their dorms, and Whiskey goes up to his room, citing jet lag and the need to rest up for tomorrow. Ford and Tango have something to do or set up in the attic, apparently, so they’re gone kind of quickly after that.

Alone in the kitchen with them and half a plate of snickerdoodles, Chowder looks between Will and Derek. “Movie time, question mark?”

So they make a bowl of popcorn, and Will puts the rest of the cookies into an airtight container so there will be some for the freshmen— er, crickets— when they get here in the morning. They head down to the bungalow and set up the movie with Derek’s hipster projector to put it up on the wall. They agree on  _ Big Hero 6 _ , which is one of Will’s favorite movies ever, actually, and thus begins the year’s first official frog pile.

It’s a little different this time, but a good different. Derek drapes himself across Will’s lap, wraps his arms around his neck, and tucks his head into his shoulder. Sprawled out on the other side of him, Chowder rests his head on Will’s stomach and links his arm in one of Derek’s. They’ve frog-piled countless times before, but he and Derek have never been  _ quite _ so snuggly— except maybe at the very end of junior year.

“Everyone comfortable?” Will asks, tucking his arm around Derek’s shoulders.

Derek kisses his jaw, right where his meager strap of facial hair is coming in. He should shave. “Extremely,” Derek mumbles.

Chowder flashes a thumbs-up. “Never better!”

“Cool.” Will cues up the movie, and so it begins. He balances the popcorn bowl expertly next to Chowder’s arm.

“By the way,” Chowder says, turning around suddenly and pointing at them, “I don’t care at all if you do couple things, but if you make out while I’m literally right here, I’m drawing the line.”

“Yo,” Derek laughs. “ _ Chill,  _ C. We wouldn’t do that to you.  _ Even _ though the amount of times I’ve witnessed you and Cait engaged in obscene PDA is off the charts.”

“It is  _ not _ that many times,” Chowder protests. “And never during frog time.”

“Well, there’s inter-frog dating now,” Derek replies, with a grin and a kiss to Will’s cheek. Will’s ears burn, and he smiles. “Get used to it.”

“ _ I  _ wouldn’t do that to you, Chowder,” Will cuts in, and Derek rolls his eyes, dropping his head back onto his shoulder. Will turns to press a kiss to his forehead, but, for Chowder’s sake, that’s all he does.

He’ll get Derek alone. Later. Right now is for frog time, and he couldn’t be more content.

*

After the credits roll, Chowder sticks around. The popcorn bowl is empty, and they’re all flush-faced because of how  _ warm _ it is in the Haus, especially the basement, but it’s closeness and time with his two best friends in the whole world, and Will has missed this. He’s missed it so much.

They’re on the topic of actual preseason starting when Derek chuckles abruptly, with his hand tracing along Will’s forearm, and remarks, “I can’t believe we have a freshman named Remy.”

Chowder laughs, too, and turns his face toward the both of them. “Just like from Ratatouille.”

Derek is quiet for a second, and he gets this look on his face, the look that always used to come just before attempts to push Will’s buttons during their head-butting stage. Nowadays, it mostly just precedes chirping or teasing. Will braces himself, and when it comes, it’s, “We should call him Ratatouille.”

“ _ No _ ,” Will says, immediately, reflexively, and at the same time, Chowder cries, “ _ YEAH _ !”

“Absolutely not,” Will amends.

“But  _ Deeeeexxxx _ ,” Chowder says, “Ratatouille is a swawesome nickname!”

“No, it’s not,” Will replies. “If I showed up at college and my teammates immediately started calling me Ratatouille, I would transfer immediately.”

Derek knocks his knuckle against his ribs. “Ch’yeah, because you’re lame.”

“We are  _ not _ calling him Ratatouille.” It’s a hill he’s prepared to die on.

“ _ Boooo _ ,” Derek says. “You suck.”

“C’mon, Dex!” Chowder is still grinning. “It’ll be fun.”

“No.”

Derek looks to Chowder. “We should put it up to a vote.”

“You can’t do that,” Will tells him.

“Who says?”

“The bylaws.”

“There’s no bylaw that says that.”

“Well, I’m making one.” Will looks him in the eye. “I’m invoking my captain’s privileges.”

“Well, I’m rescinding my vote for your captaincy,” Derek counters.

Chowder pumps his fist. “Impeach Dex 2k17.”

“I hate both of you.”

Chowder’s jaw drops, and then he frowns, and Will immediately feels guilty— because even if it’s all part of chirping, Sad Chowder is a depressing sight. “Sorry, Chowder,” he says. “I meant mostly Derek.”

Chowder grins again. Nursey dive-bombs him with a kiss to the cheek. Will stares daggers at him.

Then, for a moment, they’re all quiet. Will  _ thinks _ the conversation is over, but he thinks too soon, apparently, because then Chowder pipes up, “What about Touille for short?”

Derek almost jumps out of the bed celebrating. “ _ Yes _ !” he yells. “C, you’re a genius.”

Chowder whips his phone out of his pocket. “I’m texting the group chat.”

“Jesus Christ,” Will whispers. “This poor freshman.”

But ‘this poor freshman’ will be his responsibility come morning, and so will the other crickets.

It’s a responsibility he has to be ready for.

*

Chowder heads to bed around eleven. “See you guys in the morning,” he says, hanging on the door to the bungalow, and then adds, “Don’t have too much fun.”

Derek waves like royalty. “Love you, C.”

Chowder finger-guns him. “Love you, too.” He points the gun to Will. “And you, Mr. Captain.”

Will laughs. “Night, Chowder.”

When the door closes behind him, Will sits still and straight up in bed for three entire seconds. And then Derek grabs him around the waist and tackles him down onto the mattress.

“ _ Ah _ ,” he yelps, with a laugh. “Der!”

Derek pulls off of him, with one hand on either side of his head, slight concern in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

Will shakes his head. He can’t help smiling. “No,” he replies, more gently, then takes him by the back of his neck and hums, “C’mere.”

_ This _ kiss is different from the others they’ve shared today. It’s intimate in a way they really can’t be in front of people. Will lets off a sigh against his mouth, and Derek’s lips curve like he’s smiling.

“I missed you so fucking  _ much _ , babe,” Derek says, when they stop to breathe. “Holy  _ shit _ . I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“Me, too,” Will replies, because he has, and words are lost with the lingering of his kiss on his brain. “Do that again?”

“Yeah, Will.” Derek presses him gently into the mattress by his shoulder. The sheets are disaster all around them, and Will doesn’t care at all. “Of course.”

Derek Nurse is the best kisser in the entire world. Like, Will might be biased. But he  _ is _ . He pushes his knee up to Derek’s stomach and holds him close. The lighting in the bungalow is dim, with the main overhead lamp off and just the smaller lights on, the one down below the loft and then the desk lamp. They cast a gentle glow, and when Will gets the chance to look at him again, framed in the warm light with messy curls and bright eyes, he’s certain he’s seeing something too perfect for words.

“I love you,” Derek whispers, half into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

Will can’t  _ believe _ this is finally his. “I love you, too.”

It’s soft for a minute more. Derek props himself over him. The kisses get a little deeper, and then Will feels Derek’s hand, warm and soft, sliding under his t-shirt and brushing at his waistline.

“It’s been a long fucking summer,” Will says, between kisses, and Derek laughs out loud.

“Retweet,” he says, which is so unbelievably  _ him _ , and Will would have rolled his eyes at it last year (okay, he still kind of wants to), but right now all he can think to do is kiss him. Then Derek asks, with his hand still dancing around the waist of his sweatpants, “Can I, uh. Render a certain service?”

“Oh my God,” Will laughs. “You’re such a fucking  _ dork _ . Who says that?”

“Babe, you  _ fully _ signed up for this.” There’s something like urgency in Derek’s eyes, or maybe it’s eagerness. He hooks his thumb under Will’s waistband. “I’m serious, though. I will. But only if you want it.”

“Of course I fucking want it, you dweeb.” Will kisses him. Even the vague talk is exciting. This part is very new for him, but he likes it just as much as any other part. “And I’ll return the favor?”

Derek grins. “ _ Chill _ ,” he says, and Will absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt,  _ did _ sign up for this.

It’s the best thing he’s ever gotten himself into.

*

Will wakes to sunlight streaming into the bungalow through his little window.

It has to be early, he guesses. He’s been getting up at zero dark thirty all summer to work for Uncle Tommy. His eyelids feel heavy, and his body, more relaxed than it’s been in months. Derek is wrapped around him, bathed in faint and gentle light, dead asleep and wearing Will’s white SMH t-shirt and nothing else.

Which, like. Will is wearing  _ his _ boxers. So. He can’t even call that weird.

He has a feeling there’s a lot of clothes sharing in their future.

But also, waking up with him like this. It’s a feeling he’s never quite known. They messed around a little in New York, during private moments late at night when no one was around, but this— last night— was different. They’ll work their way up, he knows, to more intimacy. To see him in his bed like this is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

Derek’s tattooed arm is draped across his chest. He moves his hand to the intricate design, to the fresh addition under the cuff part, and traces along the inked lines. Some of the tattoo raises just a little above his skin, and Will wants to kiss every inch of it.

For now, he kisses his own fingers, then brings them down and rubs at the cuff.

It’s a good morning.

The first morning of preseason, he realizes— or, well, he  _ knew _ that; it just wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind when he woke up in bed with half-naked Derek Malik Nurse in his arms. They have a lot to do today. He pulls his phone halfway out of the pouch aside his loft bed for the time, and learns it’s 6:45. There are still over three hours until the freshmen arrive.

Or— the crickets.

He’s not nervous. Right?

He’s not. He can’t be. He’s just… well, he’s kind of jittery, actually, the longer he just lays in bed with Derek’s breathing as the only sound. Being named captain came completely out of left field for him; he thought for sure Whiskey was going to get it as a junior, and do the two-year thing like Jack. When the team voted for him, he was floored— and honored, obviously, but shocked all the same. The banquet was good, because it was safe, and Derek and Chowder were there, and he was very happy and very soft— but he had a little bit of a freakout about the whole deal when he got back to the bungalow that night.

Because, he’d thought,  _ captain?  _ Himself as captain? It was so much to comprehend, the level of responsibility his teammates had chosen to trust him with. They wanted  _ him _ to lead them. It meant the world. And it was also scary.

He spent a good portion of time talking with Derek about it this summer, and even with Chowder some, too. They both reassured him, to no end, that he was going to be a great captain. And he believed them; he still believes them, and he loves them for it. But today… today, the day has arrived. Today makes it a lot more real.

Bitty is quite the act to follow, and Will doesn’t resent that at all, not even in the slightest. But he  _ does _ want to make sure he does just as good of a job.

He can’t let his team down.

He’s just starting to overthink himself into something dangerously close to anxiety— he’s getting better at using that word, after the summer of honesty with Derek about it— when Derek stirs. He shifts his head where it’s resting on his shoulder, and his stubble tickles just a little as it rubs against Will’s neck. Derek’s hand hooks around his ribcage, and Will watches, waits for him to open his eyes.

When he does, they’re drowsy and hazy, but still that beautiful greenish gray. Derek’s mouth curves into a soft smile. He blinks a few times, to get the sleep out of his eyes, before he says, in a raspy morning voice, “G’morning, my captain.”

Will smooths the curls at the back of his undercut. “Is that going to become a thing?”

“Mmf.” Derek drops his face onto his shoulder. “Too many words.”

Will chuckles. He forgot, for a moment, that he’s been awake for an hour plus to Derek’s thirty seconds. He lets him recuperate, holding his head in one hand, and when Derek looks up again, it’s to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

Will tries again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Derek replies, nodding like that’s better, and bringing his face up to Will’s eye level. “Slept? Good?”

“Slept great.” Will wraps an arm around his waist. “You?”

Derek nods and yawns simultaneously. “The best.”

Will smiles. “Good.”

Derek kisses him lightly, and his morning breath is awful, but that’s okay. “How long—” He makes a noise that sounds like clearing his throat. “—’ve you been awake?”

Will eyes the window. The sunlight is brighter through it now. “Longer than I should have been.”

“Oh.” Derek furrows his brow. His voice is still heavy with sleep. It’s adorable, in a way. 6’2 21-year-old college hockey players aren’t supposed to be adorable, but Derek is. Or at least he can be. “Long?”

“Just, like, an hour.”

“Ha.” Derek grins lopsidedly. “Early bird.” He pauses. “Early lobster.”

“I can’t stand you,” Will whispers, and pulls him into another kiss.

It becomes a little string of kisses, sleepy ones, bad-breath ones, reminiscent of lazy mornings in his bed in New York. And Derek’s childhood bedroom was nice, and all, but Will would be lying if he said he preferred into the bungalow. This is Derek in his own space, a space that’s so much more familiar.

He wonders what his junior-year fall semester self would think if he knew that he’d be waking up, on the first morning of preseason, in the bungalow with Derek— the  _ bungalow _ , the very thing he built to get away from Derek (and his steadily growing crush on him).

He’d probably have had a nervous breakdown, back then. This year’s Will is different.

It’s going to be a very good year.

*

“Der,” he asks, as they’re getting dressed some long and lazy time later. “Can I ask a self-indulgent question?”

Derek pulls a shirt— this time his own, a vintage blue Rangers shirt— over his head and shakes out his hair. “Ask as many as you’d like, my love.” He yawns with his wrist against his face. In just the Rangers shirt and Will’s boxers (they wear the same size, okay?), it’s a good look. “I’ll be happy to stroke your ego.”

“Shut up.” Will steps into his jeans. “And don’t humor me, either. I want a serious answer.”

Derek sits on the red armchair in the reading nook. “Got it.”

“Der.” Will folds his arms at him. “On the chair in your underwear?”

Derek points to him. “In  _ your _ underwear.”

“Still.” He kneels and picks up Derek’s gym shorts, where he left them on the floor last night. “Pants. Please.”

Derek sighs, stumbling back up out of the chair to put on the shorts. “Yes, cap’n.”

If he’s already laying on the captain stuff this early, it’s going to be a year full of chirps. Will grabs the topmost Samwell shirt out of his dresser, pulling it over his head, and turns his back to Derek as he asks, “Do you think I’ll be any good at this captain stuff?”

Derek sighs hugely, and when Will turns to look at him over his shoulder, he’s dragging a hand over his face. “William James Junior,” he says. “I love you. But you have to stop doubting yourself like this.”

“I didn’t say I was doubting myself!” Will protests. “I was genuinely asking your opinion.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “I think you know full well what my opinion is on that,” he replies, which, yeah, Will does. But still— “And we’ve  _ been _ over this, babe. You’re absolutely valid for still thinking about it, but. You know I believe in you.”

Will hangs his head. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I keep saying the same things.”

“No. Hey.” In his peripheral vision, he sees Derek reach for him, so he steps forward until he can take both his hands. “C’mere,” Derek says, more gently, and he sighs into his embrace.

“Will,” Derek starts, his voice soft and close to his ear. “You are going to be a fantastic captain.” He pulls away to meet his eyes. “Look at me.”

Will does.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” he says. “And a lot of responsibility, and I know you feel like you have big shoes to fill.” His hand cups the side of Will’s face, and Will tips his cheek into it; it’s a comforting touch. “But  _ you _ ,” Derek continues, “are completely and fully capable of being a fantastic captain.” Derek pauses. “You have the whole team standing behind you, and you’ve got work ethic and dedication, and fuck knows you’ve got the talent, and— me.” He tips his forehead against his and rests it there for a second; Will closes his eyes.

“You always have me,” he continues, pulling off of him. “Right by your side.”

“Hm.” Will nods. He grapples around blindly for Derek’s hand, and like a light in the dark, Derek finds him, links his pinky tightly in his. “You and me,” Will says, opening his eyes to look at him again.

“You and me,” Derek replies. He smiles. “You’ve got this, baby.”

Will smiles back. It’s cheesy, and inexplicable, but with Derek at his side like  _ this _ , he thinks he could do anything.

_ Including _ being captain. And it’s time for that to start.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s wake up Chowder and make breakfast.”

“ _ Chill _ .” Derek grins. “Now you’re talking.”

*

There are three of them, and they’re standing in height order.

By accident, Will thinks. He can see them walking toward the Haus, down the middle of the quiet street in a three-person row. The guy on the far right is  _ huge _ , probably around Will’s own height but a lot bulkier, whereas on the left side, the kid is a string bean, and probably around Tango’s height. The one who walks between them is average height and build, but it’s just a funny sight, the arrangement stacked by height. They’re talking, animatedly, which is a very good sign, because it means they’re likely getting along. The one in the middle gestures wildly, and the short one rolls his eyes with a grin while the tall one laughs.

Will watches them through the Haus window, and he feels kind of weird just staking out for them, but the only thing he’s been able to do since, like, 9:30 is pace around by the front door and wait. It’s 9:58. The freshmen are in sight.

It’s time.

“Hey.” Chowder walks up to him by the window and pats his back. “We’ve got your back, Dex.”

Will smiles at him. “Thank you, C.”

Derek appears on his other side, fist-bumps Chowder, and then claps the rim of Will’s hat (well, his own hat, but on Will’s head). When Will meets his eyes, he winks.

Will is ready.

He takes a long breath with his hand on the doorknob, then, when he sees the freshmen arriving on the front steps, pushes the door open and steps out into the warm morning.

They’re bright-eyed and young, and they look at him like he’s in charge, which,  _ fuck _ — he  _ is _ . He walks to the top of the front steps and waves; they stop on the pathway in their little height-arranged row.

Will takes a long breath. He’s ready to be Dex. “Good morning, crickets,” he says to them. “Welcome to Samwell.”

It doesn’t exactly look like they’re  _ afraid _ to speak— none of them look nervous, not really— but they  _ do _ keep quiet, and Dex continues. “I’m your captain,” he says, “and you can call me Dex.” The tall one is nodding along as he’s speaking, and he looks between the three of them. “I know your names, but not your faces. Which one of you is Remy?”

“Oh.” The short one smiles, which is good, because he’s been the most stoic so far. He has dirty blond hair in a neat, short cut, and he’s even paler than Dex is— but not a freckle in sight. “That’s me,” he says, and he has a  _ thick _ Quebecois accent, to rival Jack’s. He steps forward to shake Dex’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Dex replies, nodding to him. “Welcome to the Haus.”

His smile widens a little. “Thank you.”

Dex looks to the middle one. “I’m Ben.” He’s mildly tan with dark hair, black or very brown, and it’s tied up behind his head in a bun, with a few strands flying loose. There’s a stud in his ear, and he looks like a hipster, which means Nursey will probably love him. “Glad to be here.”

Dex got to read up a little on the three of them, but it was a lot of generic information. Ben rings a bell, though. “Goalie?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at him, and Ben nods rapidly, all smiles.

“Yeah, dude!” He pats his own chest like he’s proud. “Netminder since I could walk.”

“That’s great.” Dex smiles. He’s glad he remembered. “Welcome.”

Ben’s grin is charismatic, like he loves being the center of attention. Nursey will  _ definitely _ like him. “Thanks.”

By the process of elimination, Dex knows the tall one’s name. “So you’re Sebastián, then,” he says, and Sebastián practically bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah!” he says. “Hi. It’s really good to meet you.” His voice is deeper than Chowder’s, but has the same enthusiastic kind of tone. His hair is curly, not the same texture as Derek’s but in a similar style, and he has tan skin, a round face, and the faintest hint of a mustache.

“You as well.” Dex gives him a handshake to match the other two, then looks between the three of them. “I do have to warn you guys; you won’t keep your given names long on the team. My name is actually Will, but since my last name is Poindexter… Dex.” He grins at them. “You’ll learn the ropes pretty quick.”

Ben folds his arms. He has a small tattoo on his wrist. “Sweet.”

Dex remembers, looking between the tree of them, when he was standing where they are now. Shitty gave the tour his freshman year, in cargo shirts and no shirt, with sunglasses on. He can’t believe, for a second, that he’s doing this from the other side right now.

But he’s ready. There’s so much optimism and excitement in these guys’ faces.

He won’t let them down.

“This,” he says, gesturing behind himself, “is the Haus, and as the newest members of the team, you’re about to enter it for the first time. You won’t live here this year, but you’ll spend as much time around here as you want to, because the door’s always open if you need a spot to hang out.” They seem to be fans of this offer, because they’re all still smiling. Ben looks up at the second-floor windows, like he’s trying to take in the whole thing at once. “Six of us live here this year. We do throw kegsters in here— parties, that’s what we call them— but it’s in your best interest to make smart choices at them, both as teammates and as students.”

They nod again. It seems like the message is relatively clear. He made a promise to himself as captain that he wouldn’t put up with any freshmen being stupid.

“Today’s a busy day, so here’s how it’s going to go,” he says. “I’ll take you inside and show you around, and you’ll meet the other upperclassmen. My alternate and our manager will say a few things, and you’ll get acquainted with everybody.” He pauses. “After that, it’s workout and practice. And team dinner. Deal?”

“Deal,” say Ben and Sebastián in unison, and Remy nods.

“Perfect.” Dex grins, then opens the door behind himself and beckons for them. “Come on in.”

Inside is a bit of a greeting frenzy. Nursey gets to them first; he and Chowder have been right inside the front door the whole time, and Dex has never been more grateful for them. “Crickets!” Nursey cries. “Baby frogs. Welcome. To college, and to the madhouse.”

Chowder shoves him. “Jeez, Nursey, you’ll scare them off.”

“My God,” Ben says. “Chris Chow. In the flesh.” He’s shaking Chowder’s hand vigorously. “Dude, I watched the Frozen Four championship game last spring.  _ Insanity _ .”

Chowder laughs. “I’m a real person!”

“Yeah!” Ben looks like he’s in his glory. “And I’m Ben.”

“It’s super nice to meet you, bro.”

“You, too!”

“ _ Wow _ ,” Dex hears Sebastián say. “The actual Samwell Hockey Haus.”

“ _ Dude _ ,” Remy whispers to him, and does not elaborate.

They eventually get them past the front area and into the kitchen; Dex leads the way, and makes conversation as they go. “So you guys have been here since yesterday, right?”

“Yeah.” Remy pauses. He has such a bilingual lilt to his voice. “Our hall is kinda empty, except for the other freshman athletes. It’s sort of funny.”

Dex looks to him as they walk into the kitchen. “Are there many of you?”

“Not really. My roommate isn’t here yet.”

“That’s a good deal.” Dex grins. “You have a temporary single.”

“I know, right?” Remy says. “I can sleep with no disturbances.”

“Crickets!” Tango cries. He and Ford are at the counter. Ford has taken the snickerdoodles from last night out, because she’s the greatest manager. “Welcome to Samwell!”

“Can I ask a question?” Sebastián says, with his forehead kind of wrinkled.

“Of course,” Dex replies.

“What does crickets mean?” He pauses, then gets sort of sheepish, like he thinks he’s missing something obvious. “Sorry— I just— you guys keep saying it, and—”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Dex says. “I realize that can be weird out of context.”

“Do you mean like the insect?” Remy asks.

“Not exactly,” he says. “The thing is, we make up a blanket name for each group of incoming freshmen on the team. Last night, we named you guys the crickets. The other seniors and I are the frogs, and the juniors are the tadpoles, and the sophomores are the waffles.” The crickets are starting to look confused. Or at least Sebastián is, but it doesn’t look like the  _ bad _ kind of confusion. Just the kind that wants to understand. “The reason you’re the crickets is because I’m your captain, and I’m from Maine. A cricket is a baby lobster.”

Something falls into place in Ben’s mind, if the dawn of realization on his face is any indication. “Okay, this is making sense.”

“We promise we’re not  _ as _ weird as we sound,” Nursey chimes in, and the three guys all grin, and Dex has never been more grateful for him.

There’s the sound of footsteps down the stairs, and Dex glances that way to find Whiskey emerging from his cave. He really hasn’t been  _ that _ antisocial, but he wasn’t in the greatest mood yesterday. Dex is glad, at least, that he’s going to be around for taddy tour. “New freshmen,” he calls, as he crosses the kitchen. “‘Sup.”

“Wait, no way.” Recognition flickers on Sebastián’s face. “ _ Connor _ ?”

Dex remembers what Whiskey said yesterday when he heard Sebastián’s name. He guesses it turns out this  _ is _ the Sebastián he knows from home. “Hey, Hernandez.”

“Dude, no way!” Sebastián grins. “Like, I knew you were at college over here, but I guess I didn’t realize we’d be on the same team!”

Whiskey shrugs. “Small world.”

With the juniors come more introductions, and the ball finally seems to be rolling. “This is the kitchen,” Dex says, once they’ve exchanged all their pleasantries. “Obviously, I guess. Our captain last year was a huge baker, and I’m trying to take it upon myself to uphold the legacy. Hence: cookies.” He gestures to the plate. “You guys can help yourselves. But I promise we’ll also use this kitchen to make actual food.” He rests his hand on top of the oven. “This is Betsy 2.0. Not all the appliances have names, but we’re getting there.”

It starts getting easier after that, as he takes them around. “Nursey, Chowder, and Whiskey live up here,” he says, at the foot of the staircase. “And Ford and Tango, in the attic.”

“Do you also live in here?” Remy asks.

“Yes.” Dex walks them across the main floor, then opens the door to the basement stairs. “But I live down here.”

He feels them crowd around him, staring down like the bogeyman lives beneath the Haus. “Down there?” Sebastián echoes, sounding vaguely terrified. “Isn’t it dark and murky?”

“It’s nice, actually. You’d be surprised,” Dex replies, then starts down the rickety steps. “C’mon, we have to go down for the bylaws anyway.”

“So…” Ben asks, next to the water heater. “They’re like rules?”

“Some of them are rules,” Dex says, “and some are more just, like, statements.”

Sebastián snorts as he reads the wall. “Like ‘fuck the LAX bros’?”

“Yeah, that’s a statement.” Dex eyes Shitty’s hand-painted scrawl back there for a few seconds, then shrugs. “They’re from before my time, but that doesn’t mean they’re not important. A few of them were rewritten last year; I’m planning to rewrite a few more. Like that fine money is going toward Haus repairs.” He glances across the basement and lands his eyes on his arch-nemesis appliance. “We  _ really _ need a new dryer.”

Ben raises his hand. “What constitutes a fine-worthy offense?”

Nursey, who has been tagging along this whole time, snorts. “What  _ doesn’t _ constitute a fine-worthy offense?”

“He’s being dramatic,” Dex tells the crickets, as they walk back up the stairs. “I’m reworking fines this year. We’ll have them for basic things, but no one should be struggling for money because they’re paying fines.” He wheels around on the stairs, and the crickets stop abruptly in their tracks behind him. Nursey, who is holding up the rear with Chowder, flanks the other side. “And if any of you have any concerns about fines for that reason, come right to me. I mean it, okay?”

The three of them nod. “Got it,” Sebastián says.

“Okay.” Once they’re back on the ground floor, Dex wipes his hands on his jeans. This hasn’t taken as long as he thought it would, and they have plenty of time left until their afternoon workout. He turns to the three of them as Chowder shuts the basement door. They have this sort of unintentional senior perimeter formed around the freshmen. “I’m almost done, at least for now. But the most important thing I want to make sure the three of you know is this. Rule number one of Samwell Hockey is to have your teammates’ backs.”

They each, in turn, smile. “I know this school has a reputation for being welcoming, and it’s no different on this team,” Dex adds. He watches Nursey and Chowder smiling at him; Chowder folds his arms, and Nursey winks. “If we don’t look out for each other, not only will we be closing this off from being a welcoming place, but we’ll also be unable to succeed as a team. So we’ve got your back, and we expect you to have each other’s. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Ben says. Remy nods, and Sebastián says, “Of course.”

“Perfect,” he says, with a small exhale he didn’t really know he was building to. “Now.” He pauses for just a second, looking between the three of them. “I’ve been talking a lot. Do  _ you _ guys have any questions?”

*

Once introductions and things like that have quieted a little, they wind up all gathered in the living room. The poor, unsuspecting crickets station themselves on the couch, and everyone else gathers in the general vicinity. “So,” Nursey says, leaning back against the coffee table. “Refresh me. Where are you guys from again?”

Remy speaks first. “I’m from Canada,” he says.

“Louis will be happy,” Ford remarks. “The international population on the team rises to two.”

Remy looks interested. “Where’s Louis from?”

“Sweden.”

“His music is terrifying,” Chowder says.

“Where in Canada do you live?” Dex asks Remy, who is half-laughing at Chowder’s comment.

“Oh— Quebec City.” Remy pauses. “Have you been?”

“I’ve never been to Canada, actually,” Dex replies, then gestures to Nursey. “But he has. To Quebec.”

“I went there one summer with my parents,” Nursey says, which causes Remy’s entire person to light up. “It was beautiful.”

Remy smiles fondly. “I love it there,” he says. “But I love it here, too. Or what I’ve seen so far.”

“Is this your first time in the States?”

“No, I’ve been around a bunch of times.” Remy pauses. “You guys do measurements weird.”

Chowder gasps. “Do you speak in kilometers?”

“Everyone else in the  _ world _ speaks in kilometers!” Remy protests. “You guys are just weird.”

“He’s an America hater,” Ben says, but it’s all chirp and no bite.

“So you’re from here, then?” Dex asks, turning his attention on him.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Ben replies. He punches his own chest. “I’m from the greatest state in the nation.”

“ _ Yo _ , no way!” Nursey goes to fist-bump him. “New York?”

Ben looks at Nursey like he’s just uttered a curse. “ _ No _ , dude,” he replies. “Rhode Island.”

Remy rolls his eyes into the back of his head, and at the same time, Sebastián rubs at his own temples, like he craves inner peace. “I have been his roommate,” he starts, in an even voice, “for twenty-four hours.” He looks around at the rest of the team. “And he has not gone a single conversation without bringing up Rhode Island.”

Again, this sounds good-natured, and the way Ben grins in response confirms the fact that it’s all chirp. Dex wants to sigh in relief. These three seem like they’re getting along just fine. “It’s not my fault,” Ben says, “that I was born in the best part of America. All I’m doing is delivering the facts to the nonbelievers.”

“But Rhode Island is, like, tiny!” Tango says. “Isn’t there not even anything there?”

Ben gasps. “Bro, bite your tongue!” he cries. “ _ Not only _ do we have the great city of Providence, but we also have Del’s Lemonade and coffee milk.”

“Two random beverages don’t constitute stately greatness,” Sebastián chimes in, and Ben elbows him.

“Sorry, what do you have again?” Ben asks, tucking a strand of hair backwards into his bun. “Cactuses?”

“It’s  _ cacti _ .”

“My bad.”

“And we also have the Grand Canyon. So.”

“Yeah, well, we have the Big Blue Bug.”

Dex has never seen a person get more passionate about a tiny state before.

He suddenly knows exactly what they’re going to call Ben.

*

They spent most of the morning and into lunchtime all in the Haus, making their way eventually to the backyard, because it’s nice out and they can. Dex goes over the practice and workout schedule for the week with the crickets, and the waffles come over to meet them and hang out. By the time workout rolls around, Dex has drawn the conclusion that this is off to a very, very good start.

He did it! He did the Taddy Tour. All in one piece. And even though the freshmen are still brand-new, getting over this first step is a big win, in his opinion.

So he’ll keep riding the wave.

“You and Ben are roommates?” he asks Sebastián, on their way over to Faber.

“Yeah, we met on one of those online group things,” he replies. “Which was kind of a relief, to be honest. I was scared about roommate horror stories.”

Dex almost laughs, thinking of himself and Nursey last year. “Yeah, those are pretty scary,” he says. “But it’s good you guys are hitting it off. Plus, you’ll have the same schedule all season.”

“That’s true.” Sebastián pauses. “Did you live in Wilson your freshman year?”

“I did, yeah.” Dex liked his freshman dorm, but probably because he didn’t have to share it with anybody. “People talk a lot about Wilson, but it’s not that bad depending on what floor you’re on.” He pauses for a second, almost afraid to ask, but then Sebastián volunteers the information anyway.

“We live on the first floor.” He looks over his shoulder. “Remy lives there, too. Down the hall from us.”

“Oh— you guys live close to each other?” He wishes he’d been closer to Nursey and Chowder his freshman year. Even  _ with _ the way he and Nursey butt heads. “That’s really good, actually. Teammates won’t ever be too far away, then.”

“Exactly.” Sebastián tucks his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts. He’s big and lumbering, and it’s no wonder he’s a defenseman. Remy is a center, which makes sense for his size, too. Dex is interested to see what Ben does in net. Chowder will have to take him in, to train him for a starting role next year.

Faber is at the edge of Dex’s vision, but it’ll take another five or so minutes to get there. He’s excited, actually, to show these freshmen around the rink they’ll call home for the next four years. There’s really nothing like Faber. It’s Dex’s favorite rink on Earth.

“So, uh,” Sebastián continues, as they continue across campus. “You’re from Maine?”

“Yeah.” Dex smiles at him. “Bar Harbor.”

Sebastián chuckles a little, brushing his curly hair from his forehead. “I’ll be honest,” he says. “I have no idea where that is.”

“Oh,” Dex replies, laughing with him. “Right, you’re from out west. It’s, like. Well, it’s five and a half hours north of here.”

“Jeez!” Sebastián says. “You must be, like, right near Canada?”

“Not really.” Dex feels like he’s been away from home for a week already, and it’s barely been twenty-four hours. He should call Ma tonight. “Maine’s bigger than people think.”

“I’ve never been up this way,” Sebastián says. “I don’t think I’m ready for cold weather, to be honest.”

“Oh, you definitely aren’t,” he replies. “If you’ve never been up here? Get ready. It’ll be a long winter.”

He huddles his arms around himself, like he’s just anticipating the cold. “I’m hoping hockey will have prepared me at least a little.”

“It probably has.” Dex pauses. “If you grew up in rinks, especially.” Which, actually, raises an interesting question, and a good topic to keep him talking and getting comfortable. Dex remembers how instrumental Bitty and the other upperclassmen were in helping him transition onto the team, by making a point to get to know him. He’s determined to do the same for his crickets. “By the way… how’d you get into hockey?”

Sebastián smiles, and Dex knows he’s asked a good question.

*

They make it all the way through workout— Nursey leads the stretch, and then Dex and Whiskey tag-team leading the rest of it, and the freshmen keep up just fine, with no catastrophic failures or even minor hiccups, really. Louis’ soundtrack booms through Faber like the soundtrack to some motivational sports movie, and honestly, it’s a good mood to set for the day. By the time they suit up in basic practice gear for the sheet of ice, Dex is in very good spirits.

“I’ll meet you guys in the tunnel,” he tells the team in the locker room, “whenever you’re finished dressing. He’s just finishing up doing the ice right now.” He listens to see if the zamboni has shut off, but he’s pretty sure he can still hear its engine. “And once we get on the ice, I’ll split us up into groups and we can go from there.”

There’s no Hall or Murphy for this sheet— it’s just a captain’s practice. Dex’s first captain’s practice.

He’s ready for it.

He walks down the tunnel alone, which he’s never really done before, exactly— he’s always in a group of teammates or at least trailing one, and he’s never actually been the first one out on the ice. With the loudening hum of the zamboni ahead of him and the fading locker room chatter behind him, it’s a good ambience. He tucks his helmet onto his head and puts his stick over his shoulder as he goes.

When he emerges by the bench, the zamboni is just finishing. The freshly done sheet gleams in the mid-afternoon light through the giant window. Dex takes a long breath of rink air, and it’s refreshing in a way he’s not sure there are words for.

He hasn’t skated on this ice since the pickup game on Bitty’s graduation day. It was a  _ good _ day— but a bittersweet one. And it’s been too long.

Faber feels like home.

He lifts a bucket of pucks by the bench onto the boards, checks the water situation, and catalogues everything for a minute while he waits. Then he hears footsteps behind him— at first just one set, and then a few others. When he turns, it’s Nursey, and then Chowder, and the rest of the team are coming, gradually behind them, new faces and old ones all together.

This is the season’s team. This is  _ his _ team.

“You ready, captain?” Nursey asks, and Dex is in love— not just with him, but with  _ this _ . All of this. This place, this environment, this team.

“Never more ready,” he replies, and he means it, in his heart.

He takes a step out onto the ice, spills the bucket of pucks as he goes, and starts his senior season.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang out](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!! And if you want to learn more about the crickets, [here's](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/smh-21-crickets) where you can do so on my tumblr. Yell at me in the comments if you feel so inclined, and [my tumblr ask box](https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/ask) is always wide open! <3 Thank you for reading!


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